Unexpected Connections
by Silverceil
Summary: Tom Riddle is a prominent member of wizarding society and is well on his way to becoming Minister of Magic. Harry, on the other hand, plans on escaping his adoptive home using his newly acquired animagus form. Through many turn of events, the two meet and change for the better or worse. HP/TMR AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **The story is set in an alternate universe where none of the main events of the series took place. Many of the characters also have different ages from canon, such as Tom Riddle being only 11 years older than Harry.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter and its awesome characters.

**Pairing: **Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry Potter

**Rating: **T (might go up to M, I'll warn you beforehand)

**Summary: **Tom Riddle is a prominent member of wizarding society and is well on his way to becoming Minister of Magic. Harry, on the other hand, plans on escaping his adoptive home using his newly acquired animagus form. Through many turn of events, the two meet and change for the better or worse. HP/TMR AU.

Thank you to my beta Stellanti Nocte, who has a great eye for detail! :)

* * *

Chapter 1:

Tom Marvolo Riddle comfortably leaned into the hotel's satin-seated chair and rested his elbows on its elegant oak armrests. On his right, the room's large windows opened to the unique view of Paris' magical villages. It was filled with numerous spelled fountains and neatly trimmed gardens, but instead of glancing over, Tom opted for the more soothing task of simply relaxing against the chair's soft cushions.

It had been a long day's work as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and he had thoroughly intended to use his free time to enjoy the wonders found in Paris' magical community. Sleep, however, eventually caught up with him and soon took over his body with its gentle drowsiness spells. Before long, he'd found himself back at his hotel room and finally taking the time to rest.

His whole life had been a wild rollercoaster ride of events that he'd somehow roughed through, though not unscathed. After years of hard work and endless determination, he had finally made a name for himself as a prominent wizard well on his way to becoming the youngest Minister of Magic.

His past still played a big role in his life and he sometimes needed a few solitary minutes to himself to replace his scattered thoughts and emotions. The wounds never left him, but had eventually healed over and left deep scars to his psyche instead.

To his knowledge, it had all begun with the marriage of a pure-blooded witch named Merope Gaunt to one Thomas Riddle, a rich muggle with a horribly smug personality. They both lived in a small northern village called Little Hangleton since childhood and were reputed as the odd couple in town.

Merope was hopelessly in love with the arrogant muggle and had enchanted him through the use of daily love potions to chain him by her side. Soon after their phony union, Tom Marvolo Riddle was born and lived as any child his age, knowing nothing of his father's unwilling position.

Years passed and Tom grew up to be a brilliant student with a seemingly normal family. His mother played well the part of a docile housewife and Thomas Riddle stayed blissfully ignorant of his situation until one fateful night.

Tom had been eight and slightly rebellious in his need for attention. His father often worked or spent obnoxiously long periods of time with his mother, not that he objected to them. He simply felt a little ignored and had one day thrown his first tantrum, knocking over his mother's daily serving of love potion in the process.

The effect had been spontaneous and one moment, Tom had been childishly pouting at his father, and the next, the older man was threatening to leave the family. Little Tom had been terrified as he watched his parents' fight turn violent. They never argued and his father never disagreed with his mother. Now, however, the whole world had turned upside down and his perfect little family picture had been stabbed into oblivion, all because of one broken teacup.

The quarrel only grew in volume and size, and Tom was soon hiding under the kitchen table, wishing for everything to be a horrible nightmare. Snot mixed in with the tears running down his face and he sniffled in his little corner as tableware and vases were thrown, crashing into nearby walls and tables. He couldn't watch and didn't want to listen. He didn't understand half the words being screamed and couldn't help thinking it was all his doing.

It was then that all turned eerily silent and everything paused. The quiet dragged on and small Tom tentatively unclasped his arms from around his knees and slowly gazed up. In front of the table under which he was curled, his mother held on to a thin wooden stick and had the object threateningly pointed at his father. The latter had an astounded look of stupor etched into his disbelieving features and had his right hand desperately grasping at his shirt.

A tinge of hope bloomed inside Tom's mind at the pause, but it soon crashed at his mother's next words.

"If you won't stay," the woman gasped, taking in deep breaths as a half-crazed look entered her dark eyes. "I'll make you stay."

With that, a deathly green light shone out of her wand and hit his father straight in the chest and consumed the man in its eerie glow. The next moment, all that was left was the corpse of a man he used to know and love. The sight would haunt the young man every night in his dreams for years to come.

Aurors eventually showed up and apprehended the unresisting witch. She was found guilty and put in Azkaban, while Tom was assumed to have been asleep during the fight and was left at Wool's orphanage.

The boy grew up lonely and despised by his peers for his family background and the strange events that often occurred around him. Every day, Tom would try and find a new way to leave the hellhole many considered an orphanage. He kept plotting his escape until a fateful letter arrived for him at the age of eleven, giving him the much sought-out opportunity to leave.

He learned much at Hogwarts, but soon dabbled in the Dark Arts when the school curriculum could no longer satisfy his needs for knowledge and power. The Forbidden Section of the library became his second home and he thoroughly immersed himself in the art.

The summer of his thirteenth birthday, Tom returned to the orphanage, as was mandatory by the law before his coming of age at seventeen. He had sneaked many books from school into his trunk and had intended to go through the material during his spare time.

He was not the only one to arrive, however, as a new kid had been entered into the system only a few days prior. Curiosity getting the better of him, Tom went out of his way to meet the new addition and was soon staring into the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen.

The child was only two years old and had a messy turf of dark brown hair framing his thin face. He had a captivating pair of deep emerald eyes and a small lightning-bolt shaped scar marring his little forehead. The boy seemed a little frail and had injuries littering his body, such as a broken arm that had still needed time to heal. A poorly-masked sadness encompassed his every move and the other children seemed to avoid him.

Tom soon learned that the small boy, whose name was Harry Potter, had just recently been orphaned when his father had been murdered. The young child had witnessed it all and was still traumatized. He visibly flinched at every movement, but was otherwise quiet and quite unresponsive.

It intrigued Tom how similar their situations were and, at the same time, frustrated him to see how cruel the other children were. He wasn't a very caring person and would gladly leave crying children alone to their own devices, but Harry's case reminded him too much of his own.

And so, with a slight awkwardness to his actions, Tom decided to keep the kid company. They didn't speak and Harry never did anything more than innocently stare at him with a mix of caution and curiosity. Eventually, Tom had brought the small boy with him to his reading area, where little Harry would occupy himself with the old half-broken toys and Tom would read from his books. He had already made sure to charm the covers and content to any muggle onlookers and so kept up the arrangement until it was time to leave for Hogwarts again.

Afterwards, every summer, Tom would return to the ever-growing Harry whose unique features would always capture his attention. The boy was a little shorter than his peers due to the poor nutritional value of the meals the orphanage offered and the early age at which he had been admitted. With every passing year, Harry seemed to grow skinnier and Tom thus decided to sneak his now-friend some non-magical treats he could find at Honeydukes every time he came back.

On the summer after his sixth year at Hogwarts, Tom returned to the orphanage to the news that an unidentified foreigner had taken his only friend away. For the second time in his life, Tom felt a wave of unfamiliar sadness to which he was helpless cascade through him and locked himself in his room for the rest of the months until it was time again for school.

The school year went by quite uneventfully and he was soon a legal adult in the eyes of magical law. With his newfound freedom, he quickly secured himself a vault at Gringotts and looked into his family inheritance. He soon learned of a long-dead uncle of his named Morfin who had been the previous heir to the Gaunt's measly fortune. The crazed wizard was found dead four years prior after having attacked a man who he'd mistaken for his sister's deceased husband, Thomas Riddle. The mention of his murdered father gave Tom pause, but he soon discarded the thought and trudged on.

The Gaunts, from his mother's side, were a very old wizarding family with roots dating back to the likes of Salazar Slytherin. As glorious as their past may have seemed, they were still dreadfully poor, but surprisingly had an unoccupied seat in the Wizengamot. Tom immediately took advantage of the opportunity and grabbed it, along with the family signet ring that was the vault's only possession.

With time, he made a career for himself as a newly admitted employee at the Ministry and an effective member of the Wizengamot. With every spare minute he found, he made an effort to search for Harry. He figured that a young boy with as striking features as his lost friend would not be hard to spot, but his hopes soon dwindled into nothingness when years of investigation resulted in nothing but thin air.

* * *

Tom made his way down wizarding Paris and glanced around the numerous stores lining the magical streets. Unlike Diagon Alley, where the atmosphere was fairly subdued and tranquil, the French favored extravagance in the form of colorful explosions and expressive advertisements. With every corner he turned, Tom received a face full of confetti charmed to disappear at contact and blasts of bright attention-grabbing lights.

"Venez voir nos bonbons volants!" one merchant yelled and waved a handful of flying lollipops into the air, where the winged candies circled around potential customers.

Another vendor showed off an irritated-looking golden eagle and made the large bird flutter its wings every few minutes to attract attention. Tom stayed clear from the stalls, but watched, slightly amused, when the eagle snapped at a passing man's wig and ripped off his toupee.

The large marketplace was filled with many attractions and despite the cacophony of noise, Tom rather enjoyed the change. Compared to his silent office that screamed of doom and death, the Parisian villages were more welcoming and exuberant. He was not usually a very expressive person, but after the series of annoyingly grotesque murders occurring both in Britain and France, by the same criminal at that, Tom was thoroughly done with the dark and mundane…for now.

The Dark Arts still called to him and he would be forever fascinated by its richness in power and history, but he no longer wished to destroy anyone he viewed as unworthy of his world. He still held his own opinions on certain individuals, whom he considered less than useful to society than others, but they were easy to manipulate and did not bother his plans at all.

British wizarding society was not perfect, but far from it. Every day, their world was threatened by exposure to muggles and the blood fight never stopped. There were plenty of problems to pick from, but Tom knew that he would have a blast changing it all. It would take years, decades, but he would do it. If not to reshape the way his society works, but for his own satisfaction.

Tom had been called to France for a board meeting between the Heads of different French and English magical departments to discuss the laws governing over both French and British wizarding criminals. With the recent disturbance of a psychopath fondly dubbed the Soul Stealer, authorities had been baffled at how to handle the murderer. Not only did the culprit commit crimes in England, he or she often crossed the border undetected and left signature crime scenes in both countries.

As Tom drifted off with thoughts of politics and future manipulations, a swift movement near his right side vision alerted him of an unknown presence. He subtlety slowed his pace and gazed towards the disturbance before his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a large black wolf hidden under the shadows of a fruit stall.

Stray dogs or cats were not a rare sight on busy marketplace streets, but Tom immediately knew, by the way the beast paced and the length of its muzzle and legs, that it was a wolf or, at the very least, a hybrid.

'_Probably the latter,' _the wizard added in his mind.

From his limited knowledge of the canidae family, the black coloration was not common in wolves and was considered to be a mutation brought along by wolf-dog hybridisation. Hence, the large beast currently making its way through the crowd, mostly unnoticed, was not a common household pet.

However, from its slumped shoulders and its slightly drooped tail, the large wolf did not look threatening despite its size. Tom could not spot any signs of a collar, but it seemed fairly well-behaved and calm in the bristling of activity outside.

The wizard briefly considered ignoring it before finally deciding to follow the animal, in case something happened. He slowly lowered his hand into his long robe's sleeve and wrapped his fingers around his thirteen and a half yew and phoenix core wand.

The wolf was mostly hiding out of sight and seemed slightly disoriented by the way its head swayed from the right, then to the left in a confused fashion. Tom wondered whether it was looking for its master when a small child suddenly seemed to have spotted the animal too.

Before the man could run up and stop the kid, the little girl had skipped over to the large wolf and pulled its tail, hard. The animal gave a surprised yelp, but otherwise stayed calmed despite the nasty yank. Tom stayed close behind, ready to cast a stunning spell, but kept himself inconspicuous in case his assistance was not needed.

The girl giggled at the pained look in the wolf's unusually large green eyes and tried to pet it. The animal flinched backwards a little at her sudden move, but eventually allowed her to ruffle its soft-looking fur. The kid laughed some more and brought both hands up to smother the wolf's muzzle, making the beast perform funny faces that made Tom's lips curl up in a small smile at how silly it looked.

Despite it all, the animal didn't budge nor attack and instead sat down on its hind legs in a collected manner. Tom relaxed against a nearby wall as he watched it all from a distance when he suddenly noticed the balloon previously tied to the little girl's wrist coming loose. With another swing of her small arm, the toy floated up to the sky and out of her reach.

The child noticed a little too late and stared helplessly up at her balloon, her hand still resting against the wolf's ear. The balloon rose higher and higher into the sky when it suddenly began falling back down, as if pulled down by an enhanced force of gravity. Slowly and surely, it made its way back to the child and into her waiting hands. Tom stared in slight disbelief at the event and made a quick scan of the area, noting that no one, not even the child's parents, had noticed the floating balloon or the wolf.

It was then that he remembered the animal and saw the satisfied gleam shining in its deep emerald orbs. Tom narrowed his eyes at the beast and wondered whether it was its doing. He knew he sounded ridiculous, for wolves didn't usually perform wandless magic, but he could find no other explanation.

Just then, the child's mother worriedly called out for her and the kid's head perked up at the sound. She rapidly glanced around for her parents, but could not spot them through the thick crowd of adults and teenagers. Tom readied himself to walk over and direct her towards the right way when the dark wolf suddenly began nuzzling the child's side. The kid blinked up at the animal and cocked her head to the side in confusion. The wolf continued to push her into the crowd and she eventually looked forward to the sight of her mother frantically treading through the mass.

With a large grin and an energetic wave, the girl bade the beast goodbye and ran into her relieved mother's arms. Tom watched the intriguing scene curiously before glancing back to the already leaving wolf that had hidden itself even deeper in the shadows of the marketplace.

Without much thought, Tom followed it. All the while, he wracked his brain for information on any dog-like magical creatures he'd read up over the years, but could only come up with barghests. However, the wolf lacked the bulk of a goblin-dog and its eyes were a too lively shade of green to be ghostly.

'_Must be an animagus then,'_ he concluded and tightened his hold on his wand. If it was indeed an unregistered animagus, he would need to bring it in to authorities, as were his official duties. On the other hand, he was not on shift at the moment and the beast did not seem dangerous in the least…

Suddenly, the wolf rounded a corner into a smaller alley and Tom saw his chance. As the animal entered into a darker and more secluded area of the wildly popular marketplace, the wizard swiftly took out his wand and cast the Homorphus charm.

A bright blue light shot out from his wand and wrapped itself around the animal, engulfing it in its ephemeral glow. The wolf paused in its movement and shivered as it promptly began to morph. Its long and dark pelt slowly changed into messy soft-looking curls and its form grew taller and leaner. Soon, as Tom watched the transformation with fascination, the wolf reverted back into the figure of a young man dressed in dark robes.

As the spell's glow continued to revolve around the mysterious animagus, Tom cautiously approached the man. The latter had his back to the other wizard, but abruptly turned around at the sound of Tom's steps and Riddle froze.

Staring back at him through a pained gaze, were the familiar emerald eyes that possessed his richest dreams and calmed his most troubling nightmares. Only one name came to mind and softly slipped passed his lips in a quiet whisper, "Harry?"

* * *

**A/N: **What do you think happened to Harry after his adoption? I'll be dedicating the next chapter to anyone who comes close! Other than that, **reviews and favorites make my day :)**

Here is the French translation of that one sentence:

"Venez voir nos bonbons volants!" = "Come watch our flying sweets!"

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **You guys are simply amazing. I can't even begin to express how happy this has made me. Thank you so much to everyone who's left a comment and who's put this story in their favorites. I absolutely adore you! :)

As for the challenge I issued about guessing Harry's past, there were some pretty interesting tries, but I don't think anyone was quite as close to what I had planned as **EquusNanashi**. More details in the second Author's Notes at the end of this chapter.

Thank you to you all for making me smile. The truth will be revealed this chapter :)

Beta'ed by Stellanti Nocte

This chapter is dedicated to EquusNanashi, who came closest to guessing its content!

* * *

Chapter 2:

Harry shifted in his small bed and the old mattress creaked under his weight. The room in which he had lived for the last four years was dark and dull, with its windows constantly warded against escape from the inside out. He could still remember the first time he'd entered the place and had thought it smelled like wet decomposing wood. It still reeked of the same scent, but he had long gotten used to it.

Beside his small cot that consisted of a failing frame and an aged mattress, Harry had stored, under a removable floor tile, the few objects he possessed: an eleven inch holly and phoenix core wand and a gold wedding ring he inherited from his late father.

Ever since the latter's murder at the hands of a stranger with long lanky hair and a large bulky frame, Harry had suffered from terrible nightmares whenever he closed his eyes. From whispers he had heard in the orphanage he had been admitted to thereafter, he had learned that his mother had died in childbirth. His father, who he only knew was of the Potter family, had died murdered at the hands of a man Harry had no idea of the identity. He was two year old at the time and could only vaguely remember the form of his father's killer. The memory of loud eerie hissing and of the horrible tang of blood, however, was burned into his mind, as well as that of a bright green light. He could recall being bathed in a warm, iron-smelling liquid that gradually pooled out from his father's side and crying; feeling the hot tears escaping his eyes from the pure confusion and fear he'd felt.

Shortly after being orphaned, Harry had been tossed around the system inside a uniformly white building with many men and women in suits. He'd heard snippets of conversation, something pertaining to some individual called Dudley and another about someone being deemed unfit for children. Before he could understand anything being said, he'd found himself at Wool's orphanage and horribly alone and terrified.

The other children stared at him with disdain in their eyes and he'd felt isolated and lonely. Days went by and it never improved until one fateful day, when his gaze had met with that of a boy with enigmatic onyx orbs.

Standing in front of him, wearing the same second-handed clothes as every other orphan, was a fairly tall teen with neatly groomed hair and a dark expression etched into his striking features. His hair was of a dark chestnut brown and his skin was pale and delicate. He stood out from the crowd without any visible effort.

"Tom" was his name, but after a few silent encounters and spending numerous hours quietly accompanying each other, Harry had eventually renamed him as "Tommy". Tommy didn't say anything and so the name had stuck.

Every summer, Tommy would come back from school with new strange-looking treats and objects for him. The boy rarely talked, but his dark eyes were oddly expressive. With the years, they'd gotten closer in their own strange yet organic way, and Harry had gradually begun to like him, going as far as considering him as his only friend.

One day, on the year of his sixth birthday, the orphanage was buzzing with activity and Mrs. Cole, the matron, was making a bigger fuss about the children's appearances than usual. Whereas she would typically give a quip remark about untied shoelaces or inside-out shirts, she was much more irritable that day and harshly reprimanded any imperfections. Confusion filled the air and rumours quickly began spreading about a mysterious foreigner that had come to provide for one of them.

The older children prepped their hair and the younger kids cleaned their mud-covered shoes. The orphans were all excited about the prospect of leaving, all except for little Harry, who really had no hope of ever getting out. Like Tommy, who had been at the orphanage for more than eight years, Harry had been told, numerous times, that a child of his background would not be wanted. After all, who would wish to deal with a traumatized child around whom strange events often occurred?

And so, unlike all the other kids, Harry locked himself in his small room and read the few storybooks Tommy had somehow found and given to him as birthday presents. Outside the thin layer of wood that doubled as his door, he could hear the frantic footsteps of every child hurrying towards the entrance of the orphanage.

Before long, the sound of a car's engine entered the vicinity and Harry tried to concentrate on his reading. The cover of the used book was already coming off, but the whole still held on stubbornly together. The pages cracked under his touch and he carefully manoeuvred the sheets as he skimmed through the familiar stories he'd already read countless times.

Minutes passed and the hallway beyond his door became jarringly quiet. The silence dragged on until the distant echo of footsteps could be heard quickly approaching his room. With each and every second, the shrill sound of Mrs. Cole's voice and that of two accented strangers became louder and clearer.

"A-Are you sure, Mr. Sorbon?" the matron stuttered as the sharp clicks of her heels hit the wooden floor. "He is…quite the trouble child, sir."

A man grunted and a few unintelligible words filled the air.

"Dis-lui que je m'en fiche de ses inquiétudes."

Quickly following the stranger's deep voice, a softer tenor immediately spoke up.

"The master says he doesn't mind," a person Harry could only assume to be the translator hurriedly explained.

Mrs. Cole continued to mutter her worries until the footsteps paused right in front of his room. Harry held his breath and within moments, his door had been opened and a sophisticated-looking elder man entered the space, followed closely by his aid. Mrs. Cole strutted in behind the two foreigners and closed the door.

"Harry dear, greet your new grandfather," she quietly instructed and the book tightly held within his little hands dropped to the floor.

Since that fateful day, where he had been quickly ushered out of the orphanage with his measly possessions in tow, he had lived in France in a luscious mansion appropriately named _La Demeure des Sorbons_. The old man with graying hair and a mysterious grace to his every move turned out to be a French pure-blooded wizard by the name of Louis-Philippe de Sorbon. The man had been searching for a young magical child with bright green eyes and dark features to substitute his dead grandson: Louis Alphonse de Sorbon.

As such, Harry was to call the man "Granpère" at all times and learn their language through hours of study. He was introduced to the world of magic and left quite baffled as he entered a completely new lifestyle. Time passed and he gradually learned of his counterpart's road accident that Granpère heavily suspected was caused by their only living relatives.

"Des bons à rien," the old wizard would grumble while sipping on his wine, "ils sont prêts à tout."

Day after night, Granpère would obsessively ramble about his dead sister's descendants and the banes of his life. Much of the foreign words would escape little Harry, who had yet to master the language, but he would quietly sit by the man's side and listen. It was warm in the Sorbon mansion and the fireplace was charmed to constantly burn with an ephemeral crimson glow.

The house was large, but only Granpère's office felt comfortable. Harry would spend hours, curled up on his adoptive grandfather's couch, studying his books and listening to the man's occasional rants. The old wizard was not the most amiable or friendly of individuals, but he was a steady presence and kept Harry quite content, despite his sporadic fits of paranoia.

The man would also, on rare occasions, speak to Harry and call him by his adoptive name of "Alphonse" or "Al" for short. Harry didn't mind too much at first, when he thought the name to be his own and had no knowledge of the man's dead grandson. However, with age, he finally understood the fading looks of fondness in his Granpère's green eyes and knew that the man could no longer pretend to see his beloved grandson in Harry, who was simply too different from the deceased boy.

The matter had bothered Harry and he would involuntarily resent the departed boy whom he was only a replacement of. However, one look at Granpère and the grin the old man would sometimes throw his way, and his childish dislike would melt into guilt. Realization stroke early on and he had come to recognize how grateful he really felt towards his new-found family. And so, with surprising devotion, he had built a little shrine for the boy and often shared with it his new discoveries and finds. Granpère never commented on the action, but in rare moments, Harry could sometimes spy his grandfather calmly looking over his newspaper with a small smile curling his lips.

Years passed and Harry went through rigorous training as per Granpère's orders. He would not be able to leave the house unless given permission and had obligatory tasks to complete, such as displaying exemplary comportment in public gatherings. He was also to stay away from his adoptive relatives, consisting of two once removed cousins and their respective families, and always report any suspicious activities.

Granpère grew more and more paranoid with time and gradually began fortifying the mansion with powerful wards and traps. Despite his riches and power, the man began to fidget at every unexpected movement and fired curses left and right when frightened. Harry had been injured a few times, but had only been given treatment once the old man's vision clarified. Even the healers had not been allowed to enter and most wounds had to be self-healed or let to scar.

Granpère began spending extended periods of time chatting with the portrait of his dead wife and ignored Harry's presence more often than not. The young boy could not figure out what had caused the gradual change in behavior, but stayed clear of the man's way, for the latter's temper had become too erratic to confront.

One day, on Harry's thirteenth year, Granpère never came down for breakfast. The boy sent a house-elf to check on the master, but the news he received had been devastating to him, yet joyous for his adoptive relatives. By unknown reasons, the old man had died in his sleep and left the world without a fight. Harry had been shattered, but had not been given the time to grieve, for shortly after Granpère's death, his relatives had stormed the mansion.

Per his grandfather's will, the family inheritance would fall into Harry, or Alphonse's, hands once he turned seventeen. To the world, he was Louis Alphonse de Sorbon and had never died, but it seemed his relatives knew better. Enraged that they had not been left a penny, they promptly locked the unsuspecting child in a spare dungeon room and set about contouring the legal system.

They soon found a leeway and applied to child-care authorities and legal guardianship. They hired a lusciously paid wizard to ward Harry into the small basement room and left the boy's care to the house-elves, making sure to only provide him the bare minimums to keep him alive. To the public, rumours had been circulated about poor little Louis Alphonse's failing health and his relative's touching care by hiring personal healers that never really existed.

Everything had changed so quickly that Harry had much difficulty keeping up. Before he knew it, he had been locked up in a decaying room and left to live out the rest of his days caged up within it. The first few weeks had been strenuous and difficult to adjust to and he had felt overwhelmed with confusion, grief and disappointment.

He knew from Granpère's numerous rants and the few times he'd met his relatives that they did not care much for his welfare. Their characteristic Sorbon green eyes were always ice cold at the sight of him and, as a young child, he had found them frightening. He had not understood their resentment and would grab onto Granpère's robes, squeezing the soft material in his little fists for comfort.

Now that they had access to the Sorbon fortunes, what was left of his adoptive family had decided to move into the vacated mansion. Down in his dungeon cell doubling as a room, Harry had no access to the outside world or any living beings except for the house-elves. The little creatures were quite anxious and upset by their heir's conditions and, in the semi-safety of his rooms, would sneak in more food or appliances to accommodate his needs.

The action was risky, however, and Harry had almost been caught more than a few times. It was only his luck that his relatives had not installed footage charms to record his movements, for they considered him harmless and quite useless to them, other than being a source for funds.

Days passed and Harry was mostly ignored and left on his own in his cold little cell. The relatives would, from time to time, check up on him to make sure the house-elves kept him alive, but would otherwise simply snort at his pitiful state and leave.

The house-elves kept him relatively well-fed, but could not provide him with many objects, for the relatives had begun to take notice of his healthy state. It had come to their attention a few months into the imprisonment and they had ordered the creatures to decrease the meal sizes and their nutritional value.

Harry, being the legal Sorbon heir, had found out early on that he could override previous orders and, once he understood that he would never be allowed out of the cell, had asked the elves for books from Granpère's colossal library.

With time, he mastered many spells and spent his time trying to find a way out. Years passed and he immersed himself in studying magic and everything his Granpère's library contained. As he grew older, his attempts became more and more sophisticated, but to no avail. The old house wards had been too powerful, but he succeeded in gathering incriminating evidence on his relatives from snippets of conversations captured through spying spells left on the house-elves and other little ingenuities he had cooked up with time.

One afternoon, on the year of his seventeenth birthday, Harry was startled during his studies of the animagus skill by a frantic-looking house-elf. Her small hands had the hems of her shirt in twists and she fidgeted every few seconds.

"M-Maître Alphonse d-d-doit partir," she whispered as her beady eyes looked from right to left, expecting some kind of danger, "le t-temps ap-p-proche."

With that, Harry understood that he had to leave and very soon. From conversations he had overheard using various spells, his relatives had planned to control him through the imperius curse once the Sorbon vaults froze on his seventeenth birthday. The date was fast approaching and his only hope of escape was through the knowledge collected in a small tome describing a way to transform into an animal.

He had worked tirelessly at mastering the skill, but had yet to succeed with the minimal amount of information Granpère's books possessed on the ability. The risks were great and the book warned of many deaths or wizards and witches being stuck in semi-animalistic forms for the rest of their lives. The prospects scared him, but the thought of being locked inside his own mind and being stripped of his will terrified him more.

With every waking second, he poured his soul into studying the notes and figuring out the quirks behind every detail he could find. The day of his birth came much too fast and he was already out of time before he had made any significant progress.

However, gathering all the courage he had inside, he picked up the plan tickets to London he had asked the house-elves to purchase under a false muggle name and prepared himself for his eventual escape. He had wanted to contact the French Ministry, at first, but the Sorbons had too great an influence in their magical community and could easily deflect his efforts before he even opened a case. The only option he had found was in the form of the dual-citizenship he possessed due to his British roots. Granpère, with his paranoid nature, had luckily kept his English passport and ensured that the boy could live in both countries. He'd never understood why it was necessary, but was now infinitely grateful for the old man's precautions.

The small plastic clock on his cell wall struck noon and Harry stood up with slight trepidation from his creaking mattress with his wand in his pocket. His father's wedding ring was hidden under his old black robes, hooped around a simple gold chain the house-elves had found for him in the attic. Everything was ready and the only task left was the hardest yet.

With his hands clutched to his long sleeves, Harry slowly closed his eyes and his lashes fluttered shut. He took a deep breath and sealed off his external senses, focusing instead on the natural magic wavering in wild wisps around his core. He concentrated on centering the yet untamed strands of magic into one specific area above his heart before sending the pure energy sailing through every limb of his body.

His mind kept inconspicuously blank as he entered the next step, where he was to input every speck of his being, as a unique individual and wizard, into characterizing his form. The flexible threads of magic slowly wrapped around every fragment of his soul he offered and he gradually felt the undergoing fusion course through his veins.

His body felt warm, almost as if the magic was melting his form and reshaping his whole. The sensation was much like turning into water, but then quickly hardening into solid stone before being brought back into another tangible phase. He couldn't breathe and yet didn't choke, but it felt suffocating and natural at the same time.

Before long, he felt the first morph begin as his nails grew into long claws that dug into the stone floor of his cell, ripping easily through the tough rock. Next came the sensation of being viciously ripped apart from the inside out and he collapsed onto the ground with a muffled whimper. He ground his growing canines into his lower lip and quietly held on as his head seemed to painfully elongate.

What seemed like an eternity had only taken a few minutes and after waiting out the dulling waves of pain, Harry could finally breathe with faltering pants. He immediately noticed how his vision had become broader and sharper, and how he now had paws equipped with razor-sharp claws.

His long triangular ears twitched as he adjusted to the height different and he felt his tail wag in excitement. From his slightly lowered stance, he glanced up at the old clock on his cell wall and noted the time. He then scrutinized the area one last time before waiting for the set time at which his relatives would check up on him.

They eventually came and Harry immediately made his escape, dashing out of the house as fast as his morphed legs could carry him. Hallways and sceneries blurred past him as he made quick twists and turns past the numerous Parisian streets. He faintly heard a few surprised screams, but only saw a flurry of figures dodging out of his way.

Before long, he'd arrived at the airport and hid himself in a small secluded corner to turn back. Minutes passed, but only his tired pants filled the silence surrounding his still-canine form. His body didn't budge and the wisps of magic surrounding his core kept escaping his reach. Desperation crawled at his mind and he tried again and again, but all in vain. He couldn't turn back and he was stuck.

Unconsciously, he began pacing around in circles and digging his sharp claws into the cemented floor. The cracking sound of breaking stone slightly calmed him, but he could barely breathe.

Without turning back, he wouldn't be able to board the flight to London and his relatives were sure to have already dispatched many wizards to search him out. He couldn't use his wand in his current form and could only content himself with small wandless spells such as moving objects from a distance or unlocking doors. His occlumency still worked, however, and he could feel his comforting shields forming a barricade around his innermost thoughts.

Hours passed and Harry still had no luck in regaining his human form. He tried until his flight had long gone and watched with desperation and slight envy as the other travellers leisurely entered the airport to board their own seats.

He eventually left his little corner and entered magical Paris' marketplace, in which the busy crowds of wizards and witches would hopefully mask his presence. He kept hidden beneath the shadows, but would sometimes be spot by wandering children.

It was getting late and he decided to turn into an abandoned alley in hopes of finding a safer place to stay, when a bright blue light suddenly engulfed his body and stopped him in his tracks.

Pain immediately entered his system as he felt the foreign whips of magic ripping through his body. A strangled cry escaped his lips as his legs buckled under him. The temperatures rose to scorching levels inside his limbs and he could barely utter a sound as it continued to course through him like waves of melted rock.

From a distance, he heard the faint sound of footsteps and, with all his remaining energy, glanced back to see the vague form of a dark-haired man. He struggled on, his nails desperately digging into the dirt in an effort to stay awake. He could feel his body grow taller and his ears painfully shrink into his head. His vision slowly began to fail him and the world blurred. His body fell down to the ground with a loud thud and he finally succumbed to blissful nothingness as his mind shut down.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter is the last one containing mostly background information. The action will start in the next one, so please look forward to it! More insights into the criminal case and Harry's abilities :)

**Reviews and favorites make me happy! **I'd also love to hear your predictions and/or suggestions. They give me an idea of how people react to what I've written and it's frankly very fun to read! :D

Challenge Details:  
Equus or Nanashi (or was it both of you guys? :D) had correctly guessed that Harry was taken by "a man that was very well off". For that, I am dedicating this chapter to you. Congratulations and I hope you like it! (see sentence before first horizontal break)

I love how many of you have assumed that it would be (mostly) severe abuse, not that Harry's been having a comfortable life either. The experiment guesses were very interesting and those who have made connections to other plot elements such as the criminal, Harry's scar and more, have made me very happy.

French translations:

"Dis-lui que je m'en fiche de ses inquiétudes" = "Tell her that I could care less about her worries"

"Grandpère" = "Grandfather"

"Des bons à rien…ils sont prêts à tout" = "Those good-for-nothings…they're ready to do anything"

"M-Maître Alphonse d-d-doit partir…le t-temps ap-p-proche" = "M-Master Alphonse m-m-must go…the t-time ap-p-proaches"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much for the incredible support! It's completely boggled my mind how great the reception has been and I'm amazed by all the great predictions you guys have made. Keep up the awesomeness and I hope you enjoy the reading! :D

Beta'ed by Stellanti Nocte

"Normal speech"

'_Thoughts'_

"_Parseltongue"_

* * *

Chapter 3:

Tom gently brushed aside jet-black locks and gazed down at the lightning shaped scar the action revealed. He softly traced his finger across the familiar jagged line and noted the pale shade of the man's skin, as if the sun had been a rarity where he dwelled.

The scar looked benign from afar, but an aura of the darkest kind oozed in small quantities from its depths at closer inspection. It was visibly a curse scar and one of the most sinister kinds Tom had ever laid eyes upon. Its reach ran deep into its hosts' magical core, deeper than some of the most destructive dark spells, and its net spread to every limb and organ of the wizard's body. However, contrary to the usual functioning of malicious curses, the dark aura coexisted with the man's natural magic and was assimilated into the wizard's core, as if it had always belonged.

It was a seemingly impossible phenomenon and no existing case had ever been documented before. To the rest of the world, no such event had ever occurred, but Tom knew better. The image of a young boy with captivating green eyes burned its way into his mind and the thought caused an uncharacteristic amount of hope to bubble inside of him. As much as he tried to suppress it and reason with himself, the dam eventually broke down and gave way to an unruly cluster of emotions previously unknown to him.

There was no longer doubt in his mind that the young man lying unconscious on his large hotel bed was indeed the same green-eyed child he had befriended at the orphanage. Harry, who had disappeared from reach long ago and whom he had tirelessly searched for, was no longer a mere memory of long times lost.

Staring down into the once familiar features of his childhood friend, Tom let his fingers comb through the man's soft brown locks and brush against the distinctive scar once more.

Harry had grown quite a bit with the years and his once child-like features had angled out with time. He now had a strong jaw line and long thick lashes that fanned out at his cheeks. His shoulders had broadened and his frame was sturdier, but it was hard to observe any more with the bulk of the man's robes. A part of Tom's mind also wondered, having seen the paleness of Harry's skin, whether the latter had stayed just as sickly thin as during his childhood.

Outside the room's wall-sized windows, the sun was setting and colored the sky with its crimson shades. Its glow brightened the dimly-lit space and warmed the pale features of Harry's face, making him seem much healthier than he had when Tom had first seen him in the dark alley.

He had many questions fighting for dominance in his mind, but no one to ask and no sources to gather his answers from. Harry was still restlessly asleep and after watching the brunet crumble to the ground in pain at his simple reversal spell, Tom did not want to aggravate the situation. He was not a healer by any means, but had taught himself a few useful diagnostic spells and they had all pointed towards exhaustion, dehydration and slight malnutrition.

It was indeed worrying and the slight unevenness in the man's breathing was not reassuring. A sheen layer of sweat coated Harry's brow and a frown marred his otherwise placid features. Abrupt shifts interrupted his sleep and it strangely reminded Tom of the numerous nights they used to spend at the orphanage, curled up in each other's arms and hoping for nightmares to pass.

Tom was suddenly brought out from his reflections when a small hissing sound filled the air. Slow paced slithering soon followed against the room's wooden floor and Tom's gaze gradually shifted to his right, taking in the majestic form of a long, green-scaled viper. The snake's lengthy body glided towards the bed with relative ease as its triangular head moved from side to side, its forked tongue carefully sensing the air all the while. When it finally reached the post, it slowly wrapped around Tom's leg and gradually made its way up to the wizard's broad shoulders.

"_Nagini,"_ Tom hissed in welcome as his familiar made her presence known. He rested his hand on her smooth scales and glided his fingers across her form.

The viper turned its head towards her owner and showed its hinged fangs in a snake-like smirk.

"_Welcome back, massster,"_ she replied with a slight bow before hovering over the young man lying seemingly unconscious in Tom's bed. She inclined her head to the side with a curious hiss, _"who isss the boy?"_

The wizard glanced over at his familiar and immediately noted the keen interest gleaming through the snake's beady eyes.

"_A friend,"_ he answered, adding a slight warning to his tone.

The snake kept quiet, as if assessing his reaction, when the phone's ring suddenly filled the room and caught its attention. Nagini hissed at the device and Tom flicked his wrist, wandlessly summoning the receiver towards his seat next to Harry's sleeping form.

"Riddle speaking," his deep voice carried through the line and there was a slight pause as introductions were made.

Meanwhile, Nagini slowly untangled herself from his shoulders and slid down onto the floor. Tom nonchalantly watched the snake go before returning his attention to his interlocutor. He listened with mild interest, but soon shifted his gaze to the soft rise and fall of Harry's chest. He acknowledged the information given with slight nods and hums, all the while reaching out and playing with a wild strand of his friend's dark locks. Before long, he concluded the conversation and levitated the phone back into its hold with a snap of his fingers.

As he stood up, he glanced down at Nagini, who had already curled up on the thick rug near the room's large windows.

"_Watch over him," _he said with authority and left the room, soundlessly closing the door behind him.

* * *

A young woman's body lay lifeless, leaning against the grimy corner of a dark alley. Her pale eyes were wide open, the once cerulean colored orbs now similar to frosted glass. Her long blond tresses were spread over her inert shoulders and served as a frame for her ashen face and deep purple lips.

Tom walked past the safety parameters and nonchalantly glanced down at the crime scene. He immediately noted the dark skull-like design carved into the victim's wrists and recognized the mark as the Soul Stealer's logo from the numerous reports he'd read. It oozed of wild wisps of dark magic and smelled foul, even from a distance.

Internally, Tom snorted at the criminal's work, which he regarded as second-rate. The man or woman's use of the cursed mark was abysmal at best, seeing the uneven way it was carved into the victim's skin. Next, the shape of the skull spoke of an absence of artistic talent and average magic control, for the form of a snake could be faintly seen, but only so much. He would, however, give it to the criminal that he or she was quite good at escaping. The aurors of both French and English origins had been on the criminal's trail for years now and did not have anything other than the signature scenes to go by.

As usual, the victims would be found slumped against the ground with the dark mark etched into their wrists. The most telling sign, however, were the soul-less look in their eyes and the pasty shade of their skin. From the autopsy of various corpses, it had been confirmed that, similar to how Dementors sucked souls out, the mass murderer extracted it from the body through unknown means.

The scene was at best mundane to Tom, who had witnessed several sentences to the Dementor's kiss and much of the darker side of magic. The Soul Stealer's case was to be resolved by select aurors from both countries and as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, his time at crime scenes was usually minimal. His task was to oversee every division under his department and he did not frequently bother himself with specific cases.

However, since the Soul Stealer's country hopping habits had sparked troublesome international disputes, Tom thought it prudent to observe at least one case to familiarize himself more with the subject of his mind-numbing debating sessions. It was also quite an incentive that the French minister himself, having been quite impressed with Tom's track record, had requested his presence at the murder scene. He was leaving Paris the next day anyway and gaining a favour was not a bad way to spend his free time.

With a last visual sweep of the scene, Tom conjured a parchment and a self-inking quill. Without missing a beat, he jotted down several notes pertaining to his observations and rolled the scroll up before heading towards two arguing aurors near the sidelines of the parameters.

One was a tall redhead with pale freckles across his nose and large muscular shoulders. The other was just as tall, but had a leaner frame and glistening dark skin. The two were exchanging words in quick succession, countering one remark by another as if a few wasted seconds would cost lives.

The redhead's freckled cheeks were flushed and his hands gestured wildly in the air, while the other man seemed to be growling in frustration. From a distance, Tom stomped the urge to heave a sigh and approached the arguing men with a slight reluctance to his steps. He may love manipulation and dealing with political opponents, but breaking up petty fights was not his cup of tea.

"Auror Weasley," he spoke with a deep authoritative tenor and the redhead quickly turned to face him, surprise etched into his features. The man scrambled to straighten his robes and promptly gave a small bow of the head.

"Department Head," the Weasley greeted and folded his hands together behind his back.

Tom nodded in response before turning his attention to the dark-skinned man beside him. He recognized the man as a junior during his time at Hogwarts, who had apparently moved to France after his mother's eighth marriage.

"Good to see you again, Auror Zabini," he said cordially.

"Likewise," the wizard answered with a respectful bow. "It truly is an honor."

Zabini then cast a subtle smirk to the redhead at the longer greeting he'd received and seemed to enjoy the fuming look in the other's eyes. Tom took in their childlike interaction with a tinge of amusement and noted that the schoolyard rivalry between the two was still quite alive despite the years.

Auror Ron Weasley, who was his junior by four years, was in charge of the Soul Stealer case on the English side while Auror Blaise Zabini had been given the responsibility of overlooking the criminal's activities within French grounds. Both were capable young men with great track records within their respective departments, and inspired respect among their peers.

It was not to say that they were perfect and the work dynamic between the two could only be described as explosive, but they were two of the best and Tom would readily admit it. Ever since the Head of Auror had gone off on vacation with his family, a temporary replacement had been put in place for the position. However, due to legal issues, Tom had taken a few responsibilities off from the Acting Head of Office, such as meetings with the Unspeakables about important cases. He had thus gained more contact with the generally hardworking aurors under his department while passing on pertinent facts. It was a unique experience and he rather enjoyed being away from the stuffy old wizards that populated the Wizengamot and other high-ranking positions.

Tom scanned the area and noted the passable teamwork between the few British aurors and the groups of French investigation squads. Everywhere around the scene, wizards and witches scrabbled around, searching for additional clues or scribbling down dreadfully long reports.

It was all according to standard procedures and there was nothing left to observe, other than to exchange a few words with the auror team leads. Unfortunately, the incompatible pair had once again caught themselves in a disagreement while his attention was away.

"Auror Weasley," he began and the redhead perked up from the glaring contest with Zabini. "I have a meeting with an Unspeakable next Monday pertaining to this case. Keep your office floo connection open for any incoming documents."

"Yes sir."

"This incident will not delay our departure," he continued and gazed over at the French aurors and investigation teams hovering over the dead body. "We will be returning tomorrow night at eight."

With that, he bid the two aurors farewell and made his way back to his hotel flat. He pocketed his observation scroll and walked a little further from the scene.

Glancing down at his gold-plated wristwatch, he noted the late hour and wondered whether Harry had awakened or not, and whether he would be hungry. After a short moment of debate, he changed his initial direction and subtly appeared in an alleyway near a famous Parisian restaurant. Hopefully his childhood friend would appreciate fine cuisine.

* * *

Harry could not move. Unlike unfortunate cases of paralysis, where movement was compromised by damage caused to the spine, Harry could feel every injury digging into his limbs at an agonizing and heightened extent. Within every appendage of his body, his aching muscles felt shredded and used. Sweat pooled at his brows and the tight control he usually had around his magic had considerably lowered to unforeseen levels.

The reversal charm, which he now realized the pale cerulean spell could have been, had brought him back to his human form. While a tinge of gratefulness penetrated his mind at the thought, as well as a certain amount of relief, the excruciating pain running through every inch of his body kept his thankfulness at bay. The small rise and fall of his chest at every gasped breath caused thousands of needles to pierce through his flesh and unbalance the tightly coiled magic kept within his core. He was struggling to keep awake and dearly wished to find respite, only he knew it would not come anytime soon.

He'd only come to shortly before the mysterious man had left for unknown reasons. He had overheard his last name, Riddle, and could only recall the chestnut brown shade of his hair, from when he'd glanced over at the man's direction during his fall. It rang a bell, but his tired and hazy mind had difficulty trudging through the mess in his head and making any worthwhile connections.

Everywhere around him, he could feel the parameters of powerful wards probing at his subconscious to determine the level of threat he presented to the domain. Like the ancient protective spells surrounding the Sorbon estate, his assailant/rescuer's room was enveloped in carefully crafted wards with intention reading properties. Harry felt relieved that his occlumency walls had survived the incident that had caused his sudden fall, but was not thrilled with the idea of escaping one mentally exhausting ward to return back into the premise of another one.

He had tirelessly trained his mental shields to be up at all times, so much so that mild legilimency probes did not affect him. However, the ones surrounding the room were potent and, with his weakened state, Harry was not having a pleasant time keeping the wisps of intrusive magic out from his immediate surroundings.

"_SSStill awake, are we?"_ interrupted a deep female voice and Harry's green eyes flickered to his right, where an intimidating sized viper hovered over his head. Its large piercing eyes surveyed his form with an eerie interest gleaming through them and its sharp fangs were exposed, as if the snake was smirking.

"…_barely,"_ Harry answered after a while and watched the viper's lips widen, as if pleased with the response.

He didn't know what to make of the snake, who seemed to be the familiar of the chestnut-haired man whose home he occupied. It had been there, its forked tongue eerily brushing against his right cheek, when he had first opened his eyes. The reptile wasn't violent, nor did it taunt him too much, but the hunger in its expression had his instincts in a fix.

He'd learned that he could talk to snakes during his first visit to the zoo with Grandpère. With the years, he'd become accustomed to occasionally starting conversations with small garden snakes, but never had he ever encountered a twelve foot long viper before. It slightly frightened him and yet intrigued him at the same time. The potential danger had an unhealthy amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins, but his limbs were too sore to move. It was not the best situation to find oneself in and Harry fully acknowledged it, if not reluctantly.

Suddenly, the loud popping sound of an apparition cut through the silence and the appetizing smell of fresh French baguettes hit his senses. The sweet aroma of fine cuisine filled the air and Harry felt his stomach rumble at the thought of food.

"You're awake," a deep voice carried through the room and Harry tried to turn his head.

His neck painfully refused to budge, but he eventually shifted enough for his eyes to lie upon the dark figure standing near the entrance door.

The man was impeccably dressed in neat wizarding robes of neutral tones. He had an air of authority to his every move and elegantly glided through the room, towards the bedside table, with relative ease. In his hands, he held a tray filled with various French delicacies, which he deposited on the table once there.

Everything about the stranger seemed oddly perfect, as if the wizard had trained in the arts of impeccability, but to a level most nobles struggled to attain. However, it was the man's familiar onyx orbs combined with his soft chestnut brown curls that gave Harry pause. The sight reminded him of a young studious teen he had once known and loved, and that he never thought he'd be able to ever meet again.

"Tommy?" he finally croaked out and a slight smile curled the stranger's lips.

"The one and only," Tom replied and his dark eyes softened at the look of pure surprise etched into Harry's features. It seemed introductions would not be needed.

"Would you like some tea?" he added, when his childhood friend seemed too speechless to speak.

Harry blinked, but couldn't do much else. His neck still hurt from his abrupt shift, but he couldn't keep his gaze away from the elegant man offering him a rare welcoming smile. His mind was still struggling to make connections, though it was admittedly quite easy to believe that Tommy, who had always been immaculately neat, had grown and stayed the same. His dark brown hair still curled at the ends and his eyes were the same stygian black as before.

"Yes," his voice came out dry and disused, "thank you."

Tom nodded and left the room to boil the water in the adjoining kitchen. Still lying on the large hotel bed, Harry heard the distinctive sound of clattering tableware. It was comforting to his ears, for it filled the silence otherwise occupied by nothing but his gasped breaths. The reality of it all still needed time to sink in, but he couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive, yet relieved.

Was the man really Tommy? And if so, had Harry finally escaped from the Sorbons and their influence over the French Ministry?

He slowly glanced out the room's large windows and noted the distinctively French marketplaces and colourful street signs. The vendors still had confetti sprinkled around the ground and the crowd seemed to quite enjoy the festivities.

'_Still in France,' _he told himself, slightly disappointed but had already guessed as much. He had missed his flight and the Sorbons were probably hot on his trail. He was no longer stuck in his animagus form, but looking around the spacious hotel room, it begged the question of why exactly he _was_ in there in the first place.

Just as his head began to hurt from the confusion and the fatigue assaulting his mind and body, Tom entered back into the room with a porcelain tea set hovering near his form.

"Still alright?"

"Had better days," Harry tried to chuckle, but stopped as the action caused a sharp stab to pierce through his chest. He bit his lower lip in an effort to suppress the pain and waited for the wave to pass.

Glancing back up at the man waiting by his side, he saw the concern gleaming through the wizard's onyx eyes and felt an unfamiliar warmth bubble inside his chest.

"I…can't really move," he admitted, his tone a little defeated.

Tom's eyes widened at the news and he set the tea on the bedside table, beside the French delicacies. He then moved closer and slowly sat down near Harry's resting form. The bed dipped at the addition of his weight, but he was careful to not cause too much movement.

"That is…unusual," he said, a frown marring his brow in concern. "Would you like the assistance of a healer?"

"…no," Harry answered after some thought. "Not yet."

Confusion and slight curiosity to the reasoning behind his choice flashed through Tom's tightly controlled features, but Harry had caught it. He'd spent too many years studying micro-expressions through Granpère's rigorous training and even more scrutinizing every one of his relatives' lies. He would be damned before he missed anything of the sort, especially after dealing with some of the nastiest dark books in his grandfather's library. Every detail counted and could dictate the rest of his life.

"May I ask why?" Tom finally inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Harry studied the look of pure interest on his childhood friend's face and did not detect any ill intentions. Of course, his mind and body being as rattled as they were, he was not in the best state to competently judge a person's character. However, something in those deep onyx eyes simply pulled him in and inspired a trust he'd never allowed anyone to possess over him. He didn't know whether he was making the right choice or whether he was letting his emotions run wild once more, but he decided to go with his guts, consequences be damned.

"I'm escaping from my relatives," he began and knew that the explanation would be a long one.

* * *

**A/N:** With Tom having to return to London the next day, what do you think is in plan for Harry and how will he accomplish it? Try your hand at making a prediction and once again, the next chapter will be dedicated to the one(s) that'll come closest to the truth!

Let the guess work begin and good luck to you all! :D

Important Not-So-Happy Announcement: The next chapters will be out on a more irregular basis because of my increasingly hectic schedule. However, please know that I'll be writing whenever I can and that **reviews and favourites** power my motivation! Trudge on and don't forget to be awesome ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **My finals are starting very soon (too soon!). However, I have kept you guys waiting long enough and I really do apologize for it. I hope posting this chapter will gain me some forgiveness [insert puppy eyes].

I will be writing a lot more once Winter Break begins. Till then, enjoy and good luck to all those who also have exams! Let this be a short break from the usual book-flipping and coffee gulping ;)

Best Guesses and Dedications:

**Krysania**, **Tempest S** and **EquusNanashi** all guessed it right, so congrats! I am dedicating this chapter to you guys :)

As for everyone else, I've got to say that you are the most creative bunch I've ever met. It may not have been exactly what I had planned, but it was amazing just the same. Thank you so much for participating and leaving me such wonderful predictions!

Love,

Silverceil :)

Beta'ed by Stellanti Nocte

* * *

Chapter 4:

The night sky slowly replaced the dimming rays of the sun as it set beyond the horizon in a haze of reds. At the room's four corners, carefully charmed candles gently lit the place with their bright glow. Their light played shadows across Tom's angular cheeks and accentuated his bright hazel eyes.

Harry cast his gaze towards the dark-haired man, committing the familiar features to memory and unconsciously overlapping his observations with distant recollections of a long passed childhood.

Tom hadn't changed all that much. He'd grown taller and physically matured into a well-established Ministry worker, but the way his onyx eyes attentively took in every detail while a subtle torrent of emotions streamed behind his dark gaze was still the same as before. Tommy had always been a careful man and the years had not changed that trait.

There was, however, a subtle hardness etched into his expression that had not been there the last time Harry had seen the man. It was clear that the years had not been gentle and that Tommy's self-imposed detachment with the world had increased. However, Harry could still see care and worry gleaming through the man's dark eyes. It was strangely reassuring.

Their conversation had unconsciously carried on into the early hours of the morning. The sun had long set and the night sky had stretched along the horizon with its dark shades of blue. A few twinkling stars were spread through the expanse and a waning crescent shaped moon lit up the whole.

"Come with me," Tom finally said after a short moment of silence. His sharp gaze bore into Harry's own, trying to assess the younger man's thoughts and he shifted on his seat. "Don't think of it as a favor, but an unfulfilled promise of the past."

Harry cocked his head to the side and leaned against the soft pillows of the large hotel bed. Now that Tommy mentioned it, he could recall that distant promise. It was like an unrealistic mantra playing through his mind when times became less than bearable. What would it have been like if he'd left with Tommy?

"...sounds good," Harry replied with a small smile, raising his bright eyes towards Tom's. "However," he continued when the other man made to stand up again, "I'll definitely promise something back."

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes and paused, slightly hesitating. A second passed and with new resolve, he leaned over to give Harry a small hug, one that he used to always give the latter before their nights at the orphanage.

"Goodnight, Harry," Tom softly whispered into his friend's ear and felt a jittery wave of emotions cascade over him and flutter in his chest.

Harry stilled for a second at the familiar yet long forgotten words before a rare smile curled his lips. He slowly lifted his arms, careful to not overstrain himself, and hugged Tom back. Despite his initial escape plan to London not succeeding, he was glad he'd met his childhood friend again and relished in the moment.

"Goodnight, Tommy."

* * *

_Five year old Harry glanced out the fenced window of the orphanage and watched as a small boy bounced around the entrance with his meager luggage in tow. The child wore a neatly pressed dress shirt and new breeches, and seemed very eager for the events to come. _

_Mrs. Cole stood next to him with a forced smile on her lips and impatience seeping into her pale features. Time was ticking away and she checked her watch numerous times, letting her right foot rhythmically tap on the pavement all the while. _

_Harry clutched the ledge of the window and tried lifting himself higher, gaining a better view of the imposing metal gate surrounding the building. He peered through the rusting grid covering the glass and onto the streets lining the front lawn._

_In any minute, the new family would come and get the boy, and they would all leave the orphanage for good._

_A black vehicle pulled up at the curb and entered the front space when the gates slowly creaked open. Harry unconsciously stuck his small face closer to the glass and felt the cold surface cool his cheeks. The driver soon cut the motor and the doors swung open, admitting a middle-aged couple with pleasant smiles stretched across their faces. _

_"Having fun?" a voice suddenly teased from behind him and Harry jumped up in surprise. His footing slipped and he quickly grabbed onto the window's grid, stopping his fall midway. Warm hands immediately helped lift him up and off the window's ledge._

_"Tommy!" Harry greeted with an excited grin and wrapped his small arms around the older boy's shoulders, giving the latter an affectionate hug. _

_Tom let a small smile curl his lips and hugged back before letting the boy down. When Harry's feet reached the ground, the brunet quickly bounced back towards the window and jumped up and down. Tom shook his head and glanced around the room, making sure they were alone. He then checked that Harry had his attention set on catching a view of the scene outside before subtlety summoning a chair._

_"Here," he placed the seat under the window and raised his friend up onto the padding. _

_"Thanks," came his reply and he watched as the boy grabbed onto the metal grid once more. _

_Outside, Mrs. Cole bid her former charge farewell and crisply turned her heels, walking back towards the orphanage without further ado. The father paid her hastiness no mind and bent down, giving the child a warm hug before both parents directed the boy towards their family car. The last scene was that of the gates closing on them, emitting loud creaks from disuse. _

_Tom and Harry stayed quiet as they watched from a floor above. The smaller of the two still had his bright green eyes set on the leaving vehicle that gradually became smaller and smaller with time. Before long, it was out of sight and all that was left was the empty view of the orphanage's familiar front lawn. _

_"Tommy?" Harry asked after a few moments of quiet staring, keeping his gaze steady on the gathering clouds outside. "You reckon I'll ever get a family?"_

_Tom glanced down at his friend and raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. _

_"I don't know," he began and saw Harry's small shoulders slightly slump at the words, "but you won't need one."_

_Green eyes widened in surprise and Harry abruptly turned around to face him._

_"Why not?" he voiced, genuine curiosity mixed with wonder gleaming through his bright gaze._

_Tom's lips curved in his usual smirk and he affectionately ruffled his friend's messy brown curls._

_"Because I'll bring you with me once I turn seventeen." _

* * *

Tom casually stepped out of the flaming floo and lightly dusted his robes for residual powder. All around him, wizards and witches shuffled about with piles of papers levitated behind them. A cacophony of foreign words filled the air and bounced off the large walls like continuous echoes. With one last glance at his surroundings, Tom marched forward and let his robes elegantly float behind his form with every step.

The French Ministry was a lot more detailed in its design than its English counterpart and had a feel of Versailles to its structure. Imposing columns of white marble separated the spacey divisions and the brightly lit ceiling had colorful paintings dancing around, bringing life to lengthy historical scenes.

Despite its impressive appearance, the building was falling apart at the seams and the subtle cracks did not escape Tom's notice. In a small corner hidden from most viewers, an image of a great war horse had its hooves stuck in a hole of deteriorating paint. Its rider, most likely an important man to French history, looked rightly distressed, but his silent pleas could not be heard by his gloriously fighting companions. Before long, his existence would surely be engulfed into the growing fissure and disappear forevermore.

Tom nonchalantly turned his gaze away from the unfortunate case and strolled towards the extensive hallway. On either walls framing the long corridor, large mirrors erected from the ground and stood next to clear windows, casting the sun's rays in every direction. The glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling added to the effect and brightened the upper space with magically-lit candles. It was an enthralling sight and Tom would have enjoyed it more, but duty took precedent and there was a task he needed to complete.

With a few more steps, he arrived in front of a wall-sized billboard containing pamphlets and pictures of many wanted criminals. His onyx eyes swiftly scanned through the numerous images of growling witches and wizards, and finally spotted the pale and slightly sickly features of his one and only friend.

"Impersonator", the poster said and Tom's eyes narrowed at the accusations roughly jotted down under Harry's moving picture: "Unknown identity. Suspected Polyjuice use. To be captured alive for interrogation. Hefty reward from the Sorbons. Illegal animagus form: black wolf."

Tom's features slightly stiffened at the last words, but otherwise stayed as placid as usual. With a last scan, he casually turned around and walked away from the board. He noted that things had just become more complicated than previously expected and simultaneously schooled his features at the sight of approaching Ministry workers.

Tom had heard of the ancient and most noble French house of Sorbon. They were an immensely wealthy family whose fortune had gradually plunged with the years after much internal conflict. Nonetheless, the remaining members of the powerful house still had seats in the High Court of Magical France and held within their hands a large portion of the French market. Their downfall was predicted to occur soon, however, for many rumours about debts had been circulating for years now.

The heir, Lord Louis Alphonse de Sorbon, was said to be very ill and in need of constant care in the comfort of his own home. The young man had been locked up in the Sorbon mansion for a period of four years now and it was not a surprise that rumours had begun surfacing about his mysterious sickness. Many believed him to be imprisoned in his own home by his relatives, but no one could openly voice their doubts, for the Sorbons were still quite omnipresent in French society. The matter was thus put aside and only mentioned in passing, whenever it would be accidentally brought up.

To learn that the elusive Lord Louis Alphonse de Sorbon was in reality Harry, whom Tom had been searching for since the age of seventeen, had been a great shock. In all his years of investigation, he never would have probed into the politically heavy matters of the Sorbons without solid proof and validations. As such, without the coincidence of meeting one another in the busy streets of the market, chances were slim that their paths would have ever crossed again.

Harry had briefed his childhood friend about his life, but kept to the bare facts to explain his reluctance to be possibly recognized by a healer or the public. It was not far-fetched to believe that the Sorbons must have already dispatched numerous investigators and marked Harry's features as a wanted individual in the Ministry's billboards, which Tom had just confirmed to be true.

Many thoughts of legal and political moves bubbled in his head, fighting for a chance at existence, but had to take a back seat due to their current problem: getting Harry to London. Tom still felt a mix of encompassing fury and excitement at the thought of seeing to the fall of such a powerful house. However, he was a man of discipline and had no qualms delaying his scheming to a later time.

Tom knew that Harry was safe in his hotel room. He always took a few hours out from his busy schedule to heavily ward his living arrangements before leaving his meager travel luggage and Nagini in a foreign room. It was a fortunate coincidence that he also happened to be quite paranoid and often casted misdirecting charms all over the space for any witch or wizard searching for his room's occupants. The spell was also quite handy during times of political struggle.

A smirk curled at his lips when the recent memory of an unlucky investigator flashed into his mind. It was quite amusing to find paralyzed wizards at his door steps. After all, it made the interrogation process infinitely more entertaining.

Just then, the imposing oak doors of the French Department of Magical Transportation came into view and Tom made his way towards it. He politely greeted the employees diligently completing their work when they waved at his arrival.

At the front desk, a young witch furiously scribbling down some notes on a long parchment blinked when Tom's shadow covered her work. She frowned at her paper and slowly glanced up, a dismissive word on the tip of her tongue, when the sight of the young English Head of Magical Law Enforcement caught her eyes.

"Oh, Monsieur Riddle!" she exclaimed and dropped her quill. "W-What can I do for you?" she stumbled, her accent rolling heavily over her words.

"I believe I requested a permission form this morning," Tom replied cordially, a handsome smile on his face. "It was to be completed before noon."

"Certainement, tout de suite," the woman vigorously nodded as she spoke and quickly swished her wand over a pile of documents. A small gust of wind sorted out each form until the right parchment made its way into her waiting hands.

"Voilà."

"Thank you," Tom curtly replied and immediately turned to leave. There was much to do and little time to waste.

Once outside the department doors, Tom found the nearest floo and disappeared back into blazing green flames.

* * *

Harry lay on the soft silk covers, his breathing slightly labored yet feeling much better compared to the previous day. A small tingling sensation still lingered in his limbs, but he had slowly found mobility throughout the morning. The burning soreness from before had dimmed to a throbbing pain that no longer sapped all his energy, but still left him drained and quite tired.

He testily wiggled his fingers and enjoyed the feeling of control he gained from such a simple task. His core had gradually woven itself back together, granting him a better rule over his magic, but it was still far from the level he'd had before. It almost felt like a barrier was blocking his efforts, hindering his attempts to gather the wild wisps of energy back into an organized mass.

It was frustrating and Harry did not really understand why it was happening, but dearly hoped time could heal the problem. After all, his magic was all he had for the last four years.

Not one to give up without a fight, Harry clenched his fists and let his lashes flutter close. It was like grasping at straws, but his magic was still there, having not left him despite his troubles. A deep breath or two later, he raised his hand towards the bedside table and slowly let a steady surge of energy flow through his outstretched fingers.

Gradually, the wooden table's height shrunk as a hole dug through its middle. The material rattled from the unstable stream of magic running through it, but kept morphing, slowly gaining the shape of a recognizable household appliance known as a rudimental clock. The table's legs bent and twisted into the time piece's arms and with a final stretch, the sections snapped together and fell onto the floor with a small clunk.

Harry blinked when it was over and slowly rolled over onto his side, glancing down the bed and noting the clock lying motionlessly on the ground. Its shape was a little rough and it was barely circular, but it had a few numbers scrawled into its surface and short protruding legs near its bottom like a vintage alarm clock. A small smile played onto Harry's lips at the sight and he grinned at his work. It was a small step, but progress nonetheless.

With renewed enthusiasm, he concentrated his energy again and attempted to morph the table back. The material shook, but grew in size nonetheless. Loud rattles filled the room and Nagini hissed at the disturbance, curling in on herself near the large window.

Harry ignored the snake's show of displeasure, continuing to push a constant stream of energy through his outstretched hand. The familiar burn of his magic travelling through his channels felt exhilarating yet tiring. His breaths came out as short puffs of air at his efforts, but he kept on. If he could return the objects to their original shape without any mishaps, perhaps it would prove to be a good exercise and help him regain his control.

He'd done such types of magic more times than he could remember, always having to shape things back in case his relatives would notice. They'd become very thorough after noticing his semi-healthy state, but Harry had been sneaky enough to conceal the proof.

Suddenly, the loud pop of an apparition sounded outside the room and broke his concentration. The table's wooden legs twisted into an unintelligible mass and fell heavily onto the ground with a loud thud.

From outside the room, the sound of footsteps halted for a second before the door swung open. Tom leisurely stepped in, a tray of delicious aromas trailing behind his form, and paused at the sight of the deformed table. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Hey Tommy," Harry gingerly smiled at his friend and slowly lifted himself up, his elbows supporting most of his weight as he leaned his head on the bed's wooden board.

Tom immediately leaned in and grabbed a pillow, helping support the young wizard as the latter scooted back into the soft cushion with a small sigh. He made sure his friend was comfortable before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, making sure to cause the least movement possible.

"How are you?" Tom cautiously asked, all the while taking in the brunet's form and scrutinizing the latter's features for any signs of discomfort.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, happy to have not felt the sharp stab of pain that used to attack his ribs at the action.

"A lot better," he assured with a small grin and opened his eyes again. "How was your day?" he continued with genuine interest.

Tom eyed Harry some more, as if reassuring himself the other man was fine, before relaxing into his spot.

"Fruitful," he replied and glanced around the room once more, pausing at what was left of the bedside table. "I take it you had more fun." He added with amusement laced into his voice.

Harry followed Tom's line of sight and smiled guiltily at the deformity he'd created.

"I'll turn it back," he said, leaning up to fix his mess. Tom shook his head and gently pushed him back into the soft pillows.

"Later," the man returned, the tone in his voice giving Harry pause. The younger wizard cocked his head to the side at the slight tightness in his friend's word and frowned with concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked and saw the slight surprise filter through Tom's calm façade; a glimpse of a smile curling the man's lips before disappearing into an all too serious expression.

Tom had been surprised at Harry's attentiveness. The brunet had picked up on the smallest of his concerns and while it should have been disconcerting, it felt strangely pleasant. For reasons unknown, it was even comforting.

"They know your animagus form," Tom said in all seriousness.

Green eyes widened in surprise before a pensive look crossed Harry's face.

"I wasn't exactly subtle when I escaped," he told Tom, who leaned in to listen. Somehow, any details Harry was willing to give him, he willingly took. "It must have been the front surveillance charms."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"I've made sure to cast obliviating charms over my room, but I didn't have access to the rest of the house."

Tom nodded. "Well, it was a good job nonetheless."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled into the pillows, his head leaning more heavily into the soft cushion.

Tom watched Harry hide a yawn, unsubtly stretching his limbs under the covers and turning his head sideways, as if the action would conceal his tired state. It was then that a long scar, stretching across the side of Harry's neck and down to his shoulders and beyond caught his attention. It was clearly an old scar, but one the man did not have in childhood.

Harry looked up at Tom after a few moments of silence, a look of pure curiosity in his deep green eyes. Tom still had his eyes revered on the deep scar, but decided not to question him...yet. There would be a better time in the future for that.

"I'll think of a plan," Tom finally said, moving his gaze back up.

Harry paused for a second before a sleepy yet mischievous look gleamed through his eyes. How it combined so perfectly, Tom would never know.

"I think I've got one," he offered the man a tired yet eager smile.

Tom quirked an eyebrow and leaned in to listen.

"I'm all ears."

* * *

Ron Weasley was excited, no, _ecstatic_ to finally return home. His five-day trip to magical Paris would have been great, if not for the unfortunate presence of an insufferable git named Blaise Zabini. The man simply got on his nerves like no other and he could not, for the life of him, understand what Ginny saw in the guy. That they were now dating boggled his mind and infuriated him at the same time.

Ron was fine with working with the bastard at a distance, their brief conversations about the case separated by a guarded border between two countries. It was also quite amusing to send another Auror to explain the facts to the other man instead of attending their meetings himself. It was one of the perks of being a team lead: he could do _almost_ anything he wanted and that also meant pissing the git off. Of course, it worked both ways and Zabini was often more creative and subtle.

He clenched his fist around his luggage trolley at the thought of the week when his voice had been changed into squeaks and grit his teeth, silently fuming by himself on the platform of the International Floo Network in Paris. He'd come a little early, for it was only half past seven and the departure had been scheduled at eight. However, knowing his Department Head, the man was sure to arrive at any minute now, lugging behind him that gigantic snake-like monster the wizard called a familiar.

Hermione had told him that it was some sort of overgrown pet, or maybe he was paraphrasing. According to her, the fiend was supposedly quite harmless when accompanying his superior and was usually "all bark, no bite." Ron would have believed her a little more if snakes could actually bark.

Minutes flew by and the redhead tapped his foot to pass time, finally glancing down at his pocket watch after a while. _'Any second now,'_ he told himself and leaned against a nearby wall. All around him, witches and wizards shuffled around and made their way into the numerous fireplaces, the flames glowing green at their departure. Beside the entrances, a team of security wizards scanned the passengers for potential threats and more.

Suddenly, a loud gasp was heard and another wizard yelled "Bloody hell!" not too far from where Ron stood. A small commotion was being raised nearby and people pushed out of the way of a tall figure with two large shadows hiding his form.

A hissing sound entered the parameters and Ron gazed down at the behemoth of a snake slithering past screaming witches and wizards. He shivered and stumbled back a few steps when its beady eyes caught his gaze, but otherwise tried to keep in place. Near the massive green threat, as Ron liked to name it, Tom Riddle strolled leisurely by. The man was, as always, impeccably dressed in his neutral robes with gold rims and gave off an air of noble nonchalance.

Everything was as it usually was, including the security personnel reluctantly letting the man enter with his unusually sized familiar. The other travellers grouped up in crowds a little further from the powerful man and his pet, and Ron was sure that they didn't mind waiting until the stranger was gone to proceed with their departures.

_'As usual,'_ he nodded to himself and grabbed hold of his luggage to exit, when a tuff of snow white fur caught his attention. He blinked and focused his gaze, finally taking notice of a large white wolf-like creature hidden behind his boss' back.

"Good afternoon, Auror Weasley," Tom's deep voice carried over the whispers of the crowd and their shifting steps.

"G-Good afternoon," the redhead replied, blue eyes glued on the new addition to Tom's pet collection. "Is...that a wolf?" He gulped when he saw no leash and no signs of any restraining charms.

Tom granted the man a small smile and reached down to pet the canine's head, softly combing his fingers through its light fur.

"A wolf-dog hybrid, actually," he explained in a casual tone. "I found him in an exotic pet store and couldn't resist purchasing him. A rare find indeed."

Ron silently nodded in false comprehension, but really had no idea what the man's fascination was with dangerous animals. The wolf, or hybrid as the wizard said, was indeed a beautiful beast, with its piercing emerald eyes and powerful-looking jaw line. Its stance was slightly slouched, but defined muscles rippled under its shoulder blades and the sight of its sharp claws made chills run up Ron's spine.

"C-Congratulations," the Auror stuttered out with an awkward smile. Somewhere in his churning mind, he dared Hermione to convince him that the wolf, dog, whichever, was safe. She was good with words, but some things were simply unachievable.

Tom watched his employee sweat and panic with amusement in his eyes. It was always enjoyable to watch the people's reactions to his choices in familiars. In this case, however, Harry wasn't really his pet, but pretending it to be so was quite enjoyable.

Ron pulled on his robe collar, loosening the material around his neck. The large wolf still had its green gaze stuck on his form and it was making him nervous, very nervous. Suddenly, a small growl escaped the beast's lips and Ron jumped, scrambling away and into a nearby wall.

His Department Head raised an eyebrow at him in his usual way, but didn't comment on his show of arguable bravery. Instead, the man turned and made his way towards their specific floo spot, the intimidating, flesh-eating (maybe) wolf closely by his side. Ron eyed the beast as it lazily put distance between them before tersely following behind his superior's steps.

His last thoughts, before stepping into burning green flames, were whether he was getting back home alive.

* * *

**A/N: **And this concludes chapter 4! I hope you liked Ron's mini freak-out, the guy's just adorable :)

Well, I'll be off to study. I'll be writing from time to time, as always. Hopefully the next chapter will be completed soon.

**Finally, I wanted you to know that all your reviews and comments mean a lot to me. They cheer me on and I can't thank you enough! [Insert hearts and hugs] **

French Translation:

"Certainement, tout de suite" = "Certainly, right away"

Till next time!


End file.
